


The Putnam County Optimistic Losers Club

by Riversound



Category: The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee - Finn/Sheinkin/Reiss
Genre: F/M, M/M, Optimism, god I love these children, i had so many feels after this show that I wrote about it, yeah!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-03-29
Packaged: 2018-05-08 16:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5505410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riversound/pseuds/Riversound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the bee, Olive goes to find Logainne. Together they acquire Leaf. It all just sort of rolls from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So we did this show and OH MY GOD I love it so much. Why We Like Spelling is my new favorite song and aaaaah.
> 
> Basically: I had feels about lonely little smarticle children. I wrote a three-thousand word expression of these feels. That's it. That's the story.

Olive starts it. It’s a good thing, too, because no one else would have had the guts.

The bee is done. William is crying, just a little bit. He’s hugging the trophy and the check, and his real mom runs up to fold all three into an embrace. Olive stands aside beaming, arms and front still tingling from William’s warmth. Then she leaves to find Logainne.

Logainne is difficult to track down. She’s smaller than the rest of the kids and can fit in little spaces, so Olive has to check beneath all the bleachers and in all the funny corners before she finds her huddled in a locker three hallways from the gymnasium. She’s crying. It’s ugly, splotchy and stark against the cornsilk of her hair. 

“We should start a club,” Olive says. She mostly closes the locker, leaves it just a little bit ajar, sits crisscross applesauce and talks straight into the hallway so that she’ll just look a little odd instead of giving up Logainne’s position if either of her dads walk by. 

“What,” sniffles Logainne, “the Pathetic Losers Club?”

“The Difficult Families Club.”

“Why?”

“Because I need a way to ask you to be my friend.”

Logainne’s breathing echoed raggedly inside of the locker. “You don’t want me. I have two dads and I’m a neat freak and I-” she choked. “I’m a loser.”

“So am I. And my mom is away and my dad never showed up, and my current best friend is a book. You’re smart. You made final three. And I like you. So how about we make a club?”

They sit in silence as Logainne thinks about it. 

“Sure,” she says finally, “but we need more people.”

Leaf Coneybear is surrounded by his family. This is problematic because there are just so many of them. It’s a great knot of sweat-stink and natural fibers and ratted hair and tie-dye, and Leaf is in the middle of it looking a little proud and a little oblivious and a lot small. Logainne takes one look and says, “We’re never getting in there.”

“We’ll manage,” says Olive. She ducks and weaves through the wall of people and taps the shoulder of the woman she thinks is probably Leaf’s mom.

“Mrs. Coneybear?” she says.

“What?” squawks the woman, whose hair is larger than any hair Olive has ever seen before. “Speak up, dear!”

“Can I speak to Leaf?”

“Of course, honey! Just be sure to talk clear, okay? He needs it!”

Olive returns with Leaf in tow, still slurping on a juice box. Her cheeks are flushed.

“What happened?” asks Logainne.

“Leaf’s family,” says Olive, and leaves it at that. Leaf joins their club with a little nod and a rumbling noise from the juice. 

“It’s been empty for a while now,” he admits. “I just pretended it wasn’t so I wouldn’t have to talk to them and sound stupid.” 

“You don’t sound stupid,” says Olive. “You sound happy.”

“They don’t think so,” says Leaf. Logainne lifts onto her tiptoes to awkwardly pat him on the head. “What do I tell them? The Difficult Families Club sounds bad.”

“The Putnam County Optimistic Losers Club,” says Logainne. And that is that.

-/\\-

The OLC, as they take to calling it, meets every Saturday at Dunn Brothers in the Basin. Leaf is the only one to actually tell his parents that it’s the Optimistic Losers Club. Logainne tells her dads that OLC stands for Options for Legal Confluence and that it’s a juvenile think tank. She spends her free period on Wednesdays hosting actual think tanks to create notes as ‘proof’ for Saturday. Olive says it’s the Official Loners’ Congregation, and since Logainne gives her a ride, her dad just shrugs and says to be home by eight. 

At first they stay true to the original purpose of the Club and use the time to rant about all the problems they’ve accumulated over the week from their families. Then they start discussing the bee and their other problems and their homework. Eventually Leaf asks their opinions on his new hamster that he somehow has been carrying in his cape for a week and they just sort of stumble into friendship.

They’re an odd group at first glance. Leaf, who is floppy and loud, Olive, who is still and shy, Logainne, who is uptight and focused. But they fit. Leaf can make Logainne laugh on bad days. Logainne can draw Olive into debates. Olive’s quiet voice forces Leaf to stop and listen, because he cares about what she’s saying and has to stop talking to hear it. 

They talk across overpriced muffin tops and, somehow, they work.

-/\\-

Nationals draw near. Olive spends the evenings at William’s house drilling words. They get bored and put on music and slow dance as the letters flicker on their eyelids and Will’s sea anemone circus undulates gently in the filter current.

“Good luck,” she murmurs, and he whispers his thanks into her hair. 

-/\\-

The 26th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee is horrible. Logainne walks into the gymnasium and nearly has to excuse herself when her stomach turns over. Olive’s mother is still in India, six months after she was supposed to be home. Leaf doesn’t even make it to the competition, eliminated in the Basin bee at fifth place on jerboa. Will is probably the only one even close to happy, and he had an epipen event yesterday.

Marcy Park waves from the audience, her beaming face at odds with the severe expressions of the adults to either side. She’s still in blue plaid, but her braids are out and her hair falls in little waves around her face. It’s a good look on her.

“At least she’s happy,” Logainne mutters. Olive elbows her in the side.

“Are you ready to lose?” sneers a voice behind them. William’s eyes sharpen and his nostrils flare.

“Boner boy,” he says, turning on a heel. “Didn’t realize you could keep it in your pants long enough to win your district.”

Red washes over Chip’s face. He's not wearing the Boy Scout uniform this year. It somehow makes him look smaller. “Didn’t realize you took enough time off ballet class to make it here either, Barfee.”

“It’s Barfeê!”

“Would all spellers please be seated…”

-/\\-

Olive loses on jalousie. Logainne misses lachrymal. Will and Chip make it to the lightning round. 

Will wins.

-/\\-

The OLC adopts Marcy Park. It happens like this:

Leaf sits in front of Marcy and her parents. He turns around during the bee and asks her if she wants to join the Optimistic Losers Club. She says yes. 

They tell her afterward that really the club started as the Difficult Families Club. “Perfect,” she says. “I fit right in.”

Marcy slots seamlessly into their Saturday meetings. She and Logainne butt heads sometimes, because Marcy wins without effort while Logainne claws for every victory and still loses some, but Marcy’s study help does more for Logainne than Olive’s ever did, so they get along. Marcy and Olive braid each other’s hair, then work together on Leaf’s.

Marcy adores Leaf. She thinks he’s adorable in a coo-at-babies sort of way, and his little nonsense games make her smile more than victory ever could. She learns things from his strange trains of thought that she would never consider on her own, like how oceans glitter like diamonds because they’re worth more than diamonds to the things that call them home, and how you can tell who’s on shift at the Dunn Brothers by how many squares are formed by the chocolate syrup lattice in the whipped cream. (Nine when it’s Frank, sixteen when it’s Josie.)

Life goes on. Will takes thirty fourth at nationals. Olive tilts her head onto his shoulder and they lie on the floor to stare up at the anemone tank where the vibrant tendrils tilt and sway.

-/\\-

Logainne loses her district bee and barely speaks for a week. Leaf wins his. Chip wins the 27th Annual. Olive’s mom is still gone. 

The OLC goes for sadness smoothies. Will tags along.

-/\\-

“That,” says Will, “is a terrible idea.”

They’re in the kitchen at Olive’s house, which is usually big and empty but today is alive. There’s a new energy in the gold glow of the sea-bell lights and the dark wood furnishings, a laughter in the walls. She likes it this way. Maybe the Club should meet here instead of the Dunn Brothers. It would be less of a drain on their wallets, at least. A smile is pressed into the lip of her cocoa mug. 

“Aw,” wheedles Marcy, “come on, Feê, you know it would be fun.”

“They’ve corrupted you,” Will mourns around a mouthful of biscuit. “You used to be so sensible.”

“I used to be so boring. It’s an experience.”

“It’s nonsensical! Why would anyone want to be scared?”

“Studies show that-”

“Don’t start.”

“It’ll be fun, William,” Logainne says. She’s undone her braids and slung her hair back in a ponytail. It makes her look much less disgruntled. “If it makes you feel better, maybe Olive will hold your hand.”

Olive flushes and Will chokes.

“Dad calls haunted houses disrespectful to the spirits,” muses Leaf. His voice is muffled from within the pantry. “Does this mean I’m going to hell?”

“Along with literally every other teenager,” says Marcy. “Screw your dad, let’s get pants-pissing scared!”

“I liked you better when you were boring,” says Will.

“I liked you better when you were intimidated by me, but that doesn’t turn back time either.”

Logainne crows, “Shots fired.”

“Feeeeeeê, don’t chicken out on meeeeee…”

“Fine, fine! I’ll walk through the stupid house. Just- Just- Ugh.”

“Don’t worry, Barf,” says Olive. “I’ll stay with you if you’re scared. Even though they’re just costumes.”

“I hate you all,” Will says, and takes another biscuit.

-/\\-

It’s not a haunted house. It’s a haunted hayride and a haunted house. The Club stands in a winding line to file onto a rotating lineup of tractors as actors in blood-splattered ensembles weave through the crowd and smell their customers.

A farmer with a knife through his head and a copper-smeared hatchet in his hand limps up to Will and breathes in his face. Will opens his mouth, starts a scream, ends in a sneeze. The farmer stands stunned with little flecks of saliva splattered across his face, then slinks away to drag the hatchet along the line of Leaf’s shoulders. 

“Barf,” wheezes Olive, “please don’t squeeze so tightly.”

“Sorry,” Will squeaks, a full octave higher than usual. “My fingers are stuck.”

They inch their way through the line. The sky slides from amber to a muted purple, and under his breath Will mutters, “Crepuscule.”

“Hush,” says Olive. They file onto the tractor and she resigns herself to injured fingers.

-/\\-

“Chainsaws!” 

The shriek slices upward through the air and straight through the maze walls. Logainne’s head jerks hard enough toward the sound that her neck cracks.

“Leaf?” She calls. “Leaf, where are you?”

She doesn’t get an answer, but she does get unintelligible screaming and another panicked cry of, “Chainsaws!”

“Damn mazes,” she curses as she makes after the sound and is redirected by a bend in the corridor. “Leaf!”

“CHAINSAWS! AAAAAAAAAGHHH!”

“Leaf! Leaf!” Shifts to sprint, rounds a corner, collides with Marcy.

“You do know they’re just leaf blowers, right?” Marcy asks, and when Logainne opens her mouth to answer Leaf screams again. They both start running.

(“LEAF blowers,” says Will later, snickering. Logainne cuffs him on the head.)

-/\\-

At the 28th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, the entire OLC sans Marcy competes. Will’s foot cramps during gasconading. Leaf skips the h in sorghum. Logainne misses cynosure. Chip and Olive make the lightning round, where Chip chokes on callipygian and Olive wins with acumen. Logainne gives her a hug afterward and Olive pretends not to hear the sniffling over her shoulder.

-/\\-

They are studying for nationals. It’s surreal, being the one spelling instead of the one drilling, a strange and heady sensation. When they’re finished for the night, Will lays his head in Olive’s lap, where she fiddles with his hair. It’s fluffy and soft and she wonders if he’d let her braid it like she and Marcy do Leaf’s. 

It comes out of nowhere.

“Olive, I have to tell you something.”

“Of course,” she says easily. “Anything.” His whole body is tense, a hand fisted (probably unwittingly) in the excess fabric at the ankle of her jeans. 

“This is important,” he says. “And it might make things awkward.”

“Anything,” she repeats. “I mean it.”

“I think I love you. Just a bit.”

“Oh thank god,” she says, and kisses him.

-/\\-

“Oh thank god,” says Marcy when they tell her.

“I said the same thing,” says Olive.

“Finally,” says Logainne. “I was getting a little sick of the soulful gazes.”

“Wait, you’re in a relationship?” says Leaf. “I did not see that coming.”

(“God damn it,” Chip will say next year, wondering how he’s still single while Barfee has a girlfriend. He will very pointedly look away from Leaf and not think about the word callipygian.)

“We should get another sea anemone,” says Olive, because the tank feels symbolic of something and she loves those animals almost as much as she loves Will. They get a pink one. It’s cute. She watches it sway over his shoulder as they waltz and tucks a smile into the curve of his neck. 

She finishes fortieth at nationals. It’s the second greatest high she’s ever felt.

-/\\-

Will doesn’t compete for the 29th Annual. He says he has other schoolwork to focus on, but in private he tells Olive that he’s just getting tired.

“Spelling has been my life for the last four years,” he says. “It made me feel almost normal, but you make me feel extraordinary, and I don’t need to spell anymore if I have that. I just- I’m done.”

For once in her life, Olive’s extensive vocabulary fails her. She kisses him instead, hoping the message gets across. He understands. 

-/\\-

Olive, Logainne and Leaf all make it to the County bee. Chip comes to watch, but does not compete. Logainne and and some new girl named Jada make it to the lightning round. Jada wins.

Logainne finds an empty classroom and screams herself hoarse. The OLC kidnaps her and they all stay at Olive’s house for three straight days, shoving candy and ice cream in each other’s faces, which helps, sort of, but Logainne starts crying again every time she considers returning home to her dads’ disappointment. Leaf snuggles her because he says it makes him feel better when he’s feeling failure-y, and they all end up in one great pile of elbows and knees.

“Thanks guys,” Logainne says miserably, and they all just hug her harder.

“You could just not do it next year,” says Marcy without any real feeling. They all know there’s no chance of that. 

“Feel-better flower picking,” Leaf declares, only it’s September and unseasonably cold and the garden at Olive’s house is limited to ornamental grasses and hastas. So they blow two hundred dollars at the Supertarget and spend the night plaiting petals into each other’s hair. Will, it turns out, is willing to submit to braids for the greater purpose of friendship. Olive is proud.

They’re not allowed to be in Olive’s room anymore now that they’re sixteen, but the basement is all theirs because honestly, Olive’s dad instituted the bedroom rule more on principle than for any actual concern over chastity. He doesn’t care what happens as long as it doesn’t wake him, and over the last two years they’ve created a sort of hideout with personalized bean bag chairs, a mini fridge of grape juice (the bees have put them off apple) and all their favorite movies in a neat little stack on top of the blu-ray player. It’s only place in the house where Olive doesn’t feel dwarfed by space.

Around three AM flower braiding becomes movie viewing becomes a game of Truth or Truth, because they’re slap-happy and when they do Truth or Dare no one actually does the dares. 

“Hey,” Marcy says through a mouthful of giggles, “Logainne. How do you feel about Tolentino staring at Leaf’s butt?”

“What?” says Leaf at the same time Will says, “I know, right?” and Olive says, “It’s kind of creepy,” and Logainne says, “Why are you asking me?”

“I thought Chip liked Marigold,” Leaf says, puzzled. Will snorts around a pumpkin cookie. 

“Yeah, when we were twelve. He’s been looking at your ass since last year’s bee. It’s why he lost.”

“He has a thing for Coneybears, I guess,” says Marcy. She smiles her little smile with the tongue that pokes out. “Tie dye and hand-knit sweaters really do it for him.”

“I mean,” says Olive, frowning, “I get it. Leaf has a nice butt.” (William makes a little noise of protest and she elbows him fondly in the side.) “But there’s a difference between appreciating and obsessing. You’d think the lightning round would take precedence over buns, however sweet those buns might be.”

William makes another noise, this one closer to strangled. She rolls her eyes and kisses him on the cheek. 

“It’s Chip,” says Logainne. “He lost over an erection when we were twelve years old. With Leaf wearing his yoga pants last year and the word callipygian? Chip didn’t stand a chance. It’s like the universe was against him or something.”

“What does callipygian mean?” asks Leaf.

“Having shapely buttocks,” says Marcy, and dissolves into laughter again, tipping onto her back and rolling.

“And he was thinking about me?” Wide eyes, open mouth that slowly stretches into a smile. “That’s… really flattering. Do you think he’ll be in the audience again next year?”

There is a long pause as the others allow the words to sink in. 

“What have I done?” Marcy whispers. They hold a moment of silence for Leaf’s innocence.

“Did you just come out?” asks Logainne a beat later, and they all cheer because really, it’s just confirmation of what they already knew. They crack open another half gallon of grape juice and swipe the wine glasses from the glassware cabinet upstairs. This is a special occasion. It deserves a dash of sophistication.

-/\\-

New Year’s rolls into the air in the wake of red and green. The Basin promises fireworks, so they all pile into Olive’s rickety new van and trundle onto the Coneybear property like it isn't 11:47 PM in the middle of winter. Bodies spill out of the van and into the field, where they stand like stunned deer beneath a sky empty of city lights and full of space and time. 

“It's huge,” says Logainne. 

“It's beautiful,” says Marcy. 

“How come when the sky makes gas it's beautiful, but when I make gas it's gross?” Asks Leaf. Marcy drops snow down the back of his shirt. 

“To another year of Optimistic Losing,” says Olive, holding an imaginary glass to the sky. 

“To Leaf coming out of the closet.”

“To Leaf’s lost innocence.”

“To sea anemones.”

“To flowers. And kittens. And Pinecone’s anger management counseling. And-”

“To friendship,” says Olive, and tosses back her imaginary grape juice. They watch the sky until the new year screams its existence in gold sparks. 

As she kisses Will in the flickering light, Olive thinks about how the compound word firework takes two poor things and makes them beautiful, and how the dictionary isn’t her only friend anymore, and how Will is a gentleman when he kisses. She thinks about how the new year could technically be celebrated at any fixed date, but somehow has been assigned to this one. She makes a wish.

“I wish for an awesome new year!” ‘

“Leaf,” Marcy whines, “you can’t say it out loud or it won’t come true!”

“That's superstition,” huffs Logainne. Marcy launches into a lecture about scientific studies on superstition, and indignant chatter filters up into the stars. 

Olive smiles and tucks herself into Will’s side as the sky spins slowly towards the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might add some additional chapters later with headcanon backstory stuff and scenes from important things like the 31st Annual. Thanks for reading!


	2. Olive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have this hastily-written character dribble inerlude thing as I continue to work on the real second chapter I've been working on for like four months already ^^'
> 
> (The new thing is shaping up to be a different style from the original OLC and with a heaping dose of rainbow and Chip in crisis. Take from these teasers what you will.)

Olive Ostrovsky learned long ago how to be alone. 

(Even when Mama was home, she was never here. Even when Mama and Dad were in love, they didn't have enough to go around. Even when she had friends, her dictionary was the best of them.)

Olive learned long ago how to be alone. Then Will came. 

She doesn't call it love, what they found at that bee. It wasn't love. It was something new. It was something that was the opposite of loneliness, and to this day Olive can't find the right word to describe it. 

The OLC taught her friendship and companionship, and she will be forever grateful to them. But Will showed her how to not be alone. For that, she will love him always.


End file.
